CHAPTER V.
Things went pretty smoothly with the little orphans while their friendMrs. McDougal stayed. She managed to keep the peace between them andtheir cousins by soothing and petting her young charges and interestingall the occupants of the nursery with her fairy tales, her stories ofWallace, the Bruce, and Robin Hood and his merry men.
But all too soon came the day when she must leave Philadelphia and go tothe husband who was wearying for his good wife; a sad, sad day to thepoor little fatherless and motherless children! They clung to her untilthe last moment, and she had to tear herself away leaving the whole fourweeping bitterly.
Their uncles were kind, but because of business cares seldom seen; theaunts took little notice of the young strangers, each being absorbed inher usual round of occupation, while the treatment of the cousins, olderand younger, varied with their varying moods--sometimes they were kind,disposed to pet and humor their forlorn little relatives, andagain--without any apparent reason for a change--treated them withcoldness and indifference.
That was hard to bear, and caused many a fit of home-sickness and bitterweeping for the loss of the dear father and mother whom they would neversee more upon earth.
Ethel, who was, in spite of her tender years, a very womanly littlegirl, earnestly strove to act a mother's part to her younger sisters andlittle brother--soothing and comforting them in their griefs and seldomgiving vent to her own except in the darkness and silence of night whennone but God, her Heavenly Father, could see and know it. Her pillow wasoften wet with tears as she sobbed herself to sleep while pouring allher sorrows into His sympathizing ear, as both her mother and Mrs.McDougal had taught her to do, repeating to her again and again thatcommand and precious promise, "Call upon Me in the day of trouble; Iwill deliver thee and thou shalt glorify Me."
"Oh, if I could only find our dear grandpa and grandma," she sometimessaid to herself; "they would love us as dear mamma and papa did, andtake us home to live with them, and we would be, oh, so happy!"
Then she would comfort herself with the hope that perhaps some day theywould be found, and she and her brother and sisters be taken to thesweet and lovely home she could remember as a half forgotten dream,where no one would think them in the way; but they would be loved andpetted and made much of, instead of being barely tolerated as those ofwhose presence their entertainers would gladly be relieved.
But scarcely a week had elapsed after the departure of their belovedcaretaker, Mrs. McDougal, when the little orphans were subjected to yetanother trial in the removal of Blanche and Harry to the house of theiruncle George and the custody of his cold-mannered, unsympathetic wife.
The enforced separation was a bitter thing to both themselves and theother two. But tears and cries brought only reproof and punishment;especially to Harry, who proved, under the tyrannical rule of hisuncle's wife, a very determined little rebel, bringing upon himselfpunishments so many and severe that to hear of them, as she did in oneway and another, almost broke Ethel's heart.
She sorrowed for Blanche too, and for Nannette and herself; for theirsituation was only slightly better than that of their brother andsister.
Things grew worse and worse with all four until at length their uncles,wearied out with complaints from their wives and feeling that it was sadto have the children separated, began to talk of trying to find a goodhome for them elsewhere.
Then Mrs. George Eldon broached her idea that it would be a help to poorMr. Coote if he and his wife were paid to take charge of the littleorphans, and at the same time a pleasant change for the children, as thewhole four could be together.
She did not add the information that she had already written privatelyto Coote, telling of her plan and advising him to casually call in uponher husband and his brother, speak of his cramped circumstances andremark that he was thinking of trying to get a few boarding pupils tohelp himself and wife eke out their small income.
The uncles hesitated over Mrs. George's suggestion, but finallyconsented to let the experiment be tried, provided Coote and his wifemight like to try it; or if not they, someone else likely to prove asuitable person could be found.
It seemed to them quite a providence when a day or two later Cootecalled at their place of business and made known his desire for justsuch an opportunity for increasing his meagre means, asking if theycould recommend him to someone who had the guardianship of children inneed of a good home where they would receive parental care and training.
The brothers exchanged glances of relief and pleasure.
"Yes, Mr. Coote," replied the elder Mr. Eldon, "we ourselves are wantingjust such a home and caretaking for the orphan children of a deceasedbrother; four little ones--the eldest eight, the youngest about threeyears of age."
"Possible?" cried Coote, simulating delighted surprise, laughing in agleeful way and rubbing his hands together with a look of greatsatisfaction. "Well, sirs, you may rest assured that if committed to mycare and that of my estimable wife they will not long miss theirdeparted parents, and will be trained up in so godly a manner that theywill no doubt be reunited to them in a better world."
"Not too soon, I hope," observed Mr. Albert dryly. "I desire them tolive to years of maturity, becoming happy, honorable, and usefulcitizens of this free land which we have adopted as our own."
"Oh, certainly, sir," responded Coote, "and I'm thinking they'll be morelikely to live and thrive in the wholesome air of the country town inwhich I am located than here in the city."
"I hope so indeed," said the elder Mr. Eldon; "but if we trust them toyou and Mrs. Coote it must be with the distinct understanding that theyare to be well fed and clothed, and to receive truly parental care andaffection."
"Oh, certainly, certainly, sir," again responded Coote; "my wife and Iwill look upon and treat the poor little orphans quite as if they wereour own."
"Better, I trust, than some people treat their own," returned Mr. Eldon."Well, sir, if my brother approves, we will, I think, give you anopportunity to show yourself a kind and wise guardian to these littleones who, as the offspring of our deceased brother, are very near anddear to us."
In reply Mr. Coote gave renewed assurances that he felt a great interestin the little orphans, and that he and his wife would be as father andmother to them, doing for them all that the best of parents could do.
The uncles then consented to put them in his care for an indefiniteperiod, reserving the right to remove them if at any time they sawreason to be dissatisfied with the treatment they received.
"I certainly shall give you no occasion for it," remarked Coote suavely;"as I have said, my wife and I will be as tender and careful of thelittle darlings as though, they were our own flesh and blood."
"How soon will you be ready for them?" asked Mr. George Eldon.
"At once, sir, at once. And if you please I should greatly prefer totake them with me on my return this afternoon. It would save me anothertrip to the city, and in my circumstances that expense would count."
"And since the change has to be made it would perhaps be as well to makeit at once," remarked Mr. Eldon thoughtfully, adding, "I hope the poorlittle creatures may be happier with you, Mr. Coote, than they have beenwith us, if only for the simple reason that the whole four will betogether; for I never saw children fonder of each other than they are."
"Nor I," assented his brother; "and Ethel, young as she is, seems verylike a mother to Harry and Nannette, poor child! I am really sorry topart with her. I'll go up with you, Coote, explain matters to her, bidgood-by to the whole four, and see them off."
Things had gone very wrong that morning with Blanche and Harry, andEthel was nearly heartbroken over the sore punishment meted out to themby Mrs. George. That made the news her Uncle Albert brought her muchless distressing than it would otherwise have been; for how, she askedherself, was it possible things could go worse anywhere than here? Andit seemed a blessing indeed that she and all three of the younger oneswould be together again.
She loved Uncle Albert,
clung tearfully to him for a moment when he hadtold her of the new arrangement, then almost cheerfully gatheredtogether the few small possessions of herself, brother, and sisters.
By direction of the aunts the children's trunk had been already packedwith the most of their clothing, so that it was the work of but a fewminutes to get everything in readiness for their hasty departure.
The little ones were almost dazed by the suddenness of the thing, andscarcely realized what had happened till they found themselves in thecars alone with their new and unknown guardian. Their Uncle Albert hadgone with them to the train, and in bidding them good-by he laid a boxof candies in Ethel's lap, saying, "That is for you and your brother andsisters to eat on the way;" and bestowed a large, luscious orange oneach, of the four.
Ethel threw her arms about his neck and held him tight for a moment,while her sobs came thick and fast.
"Oh, Uncle, dear Uncle Albert," she cried chokingly, "won't I ever seeyou any more?"
"Yes, yes, dear child," he said soothingly, "I shall run up to look atyou and the others one of these days, when business grows slack; andperhaps--who knows but you'll be back with us again some day? But there,I must go now. Be good children, all of you, and Uncle Albert won'tforget you at Christmas time."
And with a hasty caress bestowed on each of the others he hurried fromthe car.
Ethel dried her eyes, opened the box, gave a bit of the candy to each ofthe other three, then seeing that Mr. Coote was eying them as though hetoo would like a share, she held out her box to him, asking timidly,"Will you have a piece too, sir?"
His only reply was to seize the box, help himself to half its contents,then hand it back with a gruff, "Candy isn't at all good for children,and if your uncle had consulted me he wouldn't have wasted his moneybuying it for you."
"Oh, dear, that man's got most all of our candy; and Uncle Albert saidit was for us," wailed Harry, taking a peep into the half-emptied box.
"Be quiet, sir!" commanded Coote, turning a flushed and angry face uponthe little boy.
"Give back that candy and I'll be quiet enough," returned Harrysturdily.
"What a hog of a man to be robbing those poor little children of theircandy!" exclaimed a motherly-looking country woman in the next seat,apparently addressing her remark to a young girl at her side, butspeaking loud enough for Coote and other near-by passengers to hear.
The train was just starting. Coote leaned over the back of the seat,bringing his mouth near to Harry's ear.
"You keep quiet, you young dog," he said savagely, "or I'll pitch youout the window and let the train run over you and kill you."
"Oh, you wicked, wicked man!" cried Ethel, with a burst of tears,putting her arm round Harry and holding him close; "if you do you'll gethung for murder."
"Take care, miss; it wouldn't take long to send you after him," was thethreatening rejoinder, and Coote leaned back in his seat again, took anewspaper from his pocket, and sat looking over it while devouring withevident enjoyment the candy of which he had robbed the children.